


Small Moments

by weallstilldie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drabble Collection, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, short story collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 15:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weallstilldie/pseuds/weallstilldie
Summary: A collection of short stories and drabbles.1. Sunset - USUK highschool AU - A slightly angsty scene in which Alfred has some small unrequited feelings for Arthur.2. Daydream - PRUAUS - Another slightly angsty scene in which Roderich daydreams about how things could be vs. how thing are.





	1. Sunset

Alfred flipped through the stack of papers and study guides that had accumulated on his desk, the cold feeling that filled his chest growing every moment. It was no doubt impossible that he might get all of this done in the few remaining hours of the day.

He’d been stuck at school since classes ended—his brother Matthew had an event at the school to attend that evening, and their parents insisted they go home together. Alfred was not invited, however, and so he sat alone in an empty classroom, watching the hours of time left to finish his work ticking by, and watching the hours of sleep he’d get that night quickly disappear.

The lights in the hallways had all been shut off, all students had returned home, save for those who were attending the event. And they were all off in one room far away together. Most of the teachers but a small few had already gone their way home as well, and silence filled every corridor. Traffic rushed along outside, as busy as ever, muffled out by the school walls and the window shades.

The classroom was lit by a single lamp. It flickered every now and then. Alfred’s pen clicked against the surface of the desk, and against the covers of his books. He pushed his glasses up and brushed his bangs from his face, trying hard to focus his eyes on the paragraph he was reading. But it was no use, his head was beginning to spin, his eyes could hardly stay open, his breathing had grown shallow.

There was a click at the door. Alfred looked up to see a pair of shy eyes accompanied by a timid smile. Ruffled blonde hair and a neatly ironed sweater vest. Books and papers in hand, ready to begin work.

“You wouldn’t mind if I studied in here a bit?” Arthur asked.

“S-Sure thing!” Alfred stammered, feeling warmth rush to his face. Why would he want to study here, of all places, with me? Alfred thought to himself. Arthur never seemed the type to want the company of someone as rowdy and talkative as Alfred.

“I do hope it’s alright,” Arthur placed his books on an empty desk, gently, as if he were to so much as make a sound, the books and the desk would turn to dust and blow away. His steps were equally as soft and quiet as he made his way across the room. And without a word, he pulled the cord on one of the window shades, sending the shades rolling up.

In an instant the room was washed in the gold and rose of the setting sun, Arthur’s shadow falling across the floor like a pillar. All the tiredness seemed to leave Alfred’s eyes as he watched Arthur open window after window, filling the room with the final threads of light before the nighttime arrived.

And as the room was filled with the sunset, Alfred’s heart was filled with warmth and safety, filling every corner and crack where the silence of the halls had echoed no more than five minutes ago.

And so Arthur took a seat at his desk, six paces away from Alfred’s. He began to fumble with his pencil as he read a handout, he brushed his hair from his eyes—the same way Alfred had,—he doodled a bird on the corner of the page, and he adjusted his collar—and all the while, Alfred couldn’t help but watch, taking in every movement, every tiny action.

And suddenly, an ache filled his chest where the sunset had found its place, and though the room was filled with light and warmth, the room, and the halls, and Alfred’s heart were filled with silence.


	2. Daydream

A cool breeze would run its hands through Roderich’s hair, dry leaves and twigs snapping underfoot. There would be tangles of brown-leafed vines coiling up trees, coiling ‘round each other, and the ground would be covered in the occasional patch, like a fallen tapestry, of pine needles. The sky would be grey, with the air carrying the scent of a recent rainfall—and the proof would be on the branches: tiny pearls of water gathered, clustering together and dripping into the soft earth, shimmering on the occasional spider web. A beetle would crawl up a patch of lichen, which in turn would crawl up the trunk of a tree, and in turn, Roderich would pause, and watch as the tiny creatures traveled. Just as he traveled. A bird would cry out every now and then, a cricket would chirp alone in a patch of brambles, a chipmunk would scurry beneath the leaves.

And there would be a figure up ahead, forever walking forward, and Roderich would follow him. Untamed silver hair, a hoodie with snagged threads trailing from the sleeves. Rough and scarred hands, and a stunning red and violet gaze. Taking long, confident strides, and yet his head would be bowed, his eyes fixed on the path at his feet. And Roderich would follow him. And they would step down staircases of tree roots and stones, and they would leave the path behind, cutting along steep slopes, holding onto saplings to keep from stumbling. And they would sit for a moment on the rotting trunk of a fallen tree, the roots having torn up the ground, and insects hiding beneath the weathered bark. And Roderich would watch as the sky darkened, and soon they would walk again as the clouds turned to red and violet.

And they wouldn’t exchange a word, and yet the silence would be comforting. To be alone in the quiet and safety of this tiny corner of the world, and to have company in that aloneness.

And they would walk alone, one before the other; one with his eyes on the ground, one with his eyes on the other. And they would be at peace.

And Roderich would be at peace.

But Roderich was sitting alone on the cold kitchen floor, a cup of lukewarm tea clutched in his hands, his tie undone and his shirt collar lopsided. The shoulder of his blazer having slid down his arm, crooked, and his hair in his eyes. The lights were off, and the red of a switch on an extension cord reflected off the stained and burnt surface of a pot left on the stove. A petal dropped from a dead rose on the windowsill and soundlessly fell onto the counter by the cluster of spices and bottles of oil. The house was otherwise empty. The curtains were all shut, the doors were all shut, Roderich’s heart was shut.

A motorbike’s tires screeched across the road and a car horn went off.

A couple began to shout in the apartment next door.

The refrigerator began to whir and the heating pipes clanged.

Roderich shut his eyes, and blocked away the world. And a cool breeze would run its hands through his hair, dry leaves and twigs snapping underfoot.


End file.
